


A Single Drop of Remorse

by 13thSyndrome



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Airports, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Compromised, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, JeanMarco Week, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Modern Era, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 22:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4238892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13thSyndrome/pseuds/13thSyndrome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drop me off, and don't come back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Single Drop of Remorse

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Day 1 of JeanMarco Week 2015. Prompt 1 is "Begin Again" or "Dream On." 
> 
> This story is based off of the "Begin Again" prompt.

A Single Drop of Remorse

 

 

Close the window, and shut the door. I'm fumbling through the sheets. I'm stumbling through the streets. I'm tumbling through the trees to reach you.

* * *

 

You found me on a plane.

Well, not really. I'm pretty sure you recognized me when we were in line for boarding Flight 77 on Maria Air. Designation? Sina International Airport at 00:14:05 hours. Flight time was about 11 hours.

Now, I would be spending 11 hours with you, and, yeah, you definitely saw me.

I was at the very end of the line, because I'd been chatting up some of the gate agents and other employees and forgot to check the time. This was something I was fortunately used to, because I was a regular flyer. My job had me traveling from point a to point b to point c. I didn't mind. I usually loved flying.

Distracted, I barely registered the worried look on the gate agent's face.

"We're actually overbooked for economy on this flight."

Knowing you were on there, I felt a moment of relief.

"Oh, no. Really?"

"Yes, sir. I'm very sorry about that."

I looked at her name tag.

"It's completely fine, Krista. May I call you that? I know these things are out of your control. You can call me Marco, if you'd like. I'll just rebook for another flight."

She relaxed and beamed up at me.

"Well, Marco," she said, "We actually have an open spot in first class."

"You mean an upgrade? Maybe?"

"Absolutely."

"Wow, thank you so much! That's so nice of you. Wow! Are you sure?"

"Of course," she laughed and handed me a new boarding pass, "Just head on in."

"Thanks, Krista! Have a great day!"

"No problem, Marco. Enjoy your flight."

Giddy as a child (I mean, c'mon. These tickets were usually 10K more than economy.), I skipped through the jet bridge and calmed myself when I saw one of the flight attendants.

"Hello, sir. How are we doing today?"

"Hi! I'm fantastic. How are you? "

He raised an eyebrow and laughed a little.

"I'm good. Thanks for asking," he said as he took my pass, "First Class, I see. Okay, well, your seat is D5. Enjoy your flight."

"Thank you. You too."

I went down the aisle and found my seat. Actually, the seat next to mine was empty too. Only a small leather-bound journal tucked away in the corner gave any indication that someone else was sitting there.

After storing my carry-on, I settled into my seat, admiring the spaciousness of the cabin. I had the window seat, which was something I usually didn't have the luxury to afford. The sky was brown and murky. The pavement below was colored with purples and grays. I felt like I was in an incubator. The plane was a warm place, safe from the sharp coolness of the air outside.

When I turned my head from the window, I met the cutting edge of hazel. The plane didn't seem so warm after that.

"Hello, Jean."

"Marco."

* * *

  
_(Five years ago)_

We're running through a field just before the sun peaks over the hills and crawls over your body. You fall on the ground and feel the wet, cool morning greet you. I inhale deeply, stretching my arms above my head. My limbs tighten and relax. It feels good. You stare at me until I'm lying next to you.

The grass wraps around you. A breeze rushes in, and you shiver. I peek over at you, as you curse under your breath about the cold. You say you can still see stars in the sky. I lie on my side and drum my fingers on your belly, playing a simple melody. Your muscles tighten and anticipation burns through me. You brush my hand away, and we stay silent. You move an inch closer.

I close my eyes and inhale. Even in the dark, I can see the crispness of your jacket; the tapered smile; the edges of your face. The song plays over and over again.

You make a small noise and roll on top of me. I open my eyes, seeing the gold and green of your own. You kiss my neck, and I know I shouldn't touch you. I want to touch you.

But now, you're working me with your hands, and I try to stay still. I can manage, but you're insatiable today, ghosting over my zipper. My breathing is as heavy as yours. You touch me through the thick cloth of my jeans, and I can't help but grab the back of your neck. The undercut makes your hair soft and rough. The feeling of you under my fingertips makes me gasp out, but you move away from me. My face is red, as I look at you. Your back faces me. I want to touch you, but the air is thick. The sun creeps across the hill, and I feel you pull away. It's an unspoken rule, a boundary that I can't cross. You stand and walk off. I stay as I am and feel the rhythm of the world break.

* * *

  
_(Present)_

"Hello, Jean."

"Marco."

The years we had spent apart were drowned out by your memory. You were right in front of me. I couldn't believe you were there. It was cruel. I watched you sit down and tried not to stare. You'd aged well, and it was frustrating that I noticed that. You pulled out the journal and placed it on your lap.

"I see you've gotten even more freckles throughout the years," you scoffed, "Didn't think that was possible, honestly."

I smiled, really unsure of what to say.

"Yes. I have."

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. I looked out the window. Of all the things I'd had to deal with that day, I never expected you.

"Marco?"

I wanted to grab you. Ask you every single detail I'd missed out on. I wanted to know if you still liked cream in your tea or waking up early. I wanted to know if you still took hour long baths and hated the cold. There were privileges I'd had when we were together, and there were boundaries. I'd grown accustomed to you, intrinsically.

Now, all I had were snapshots of our past, and the soundtrack of our falling out.

"Yeah?"

I hoped you couldn't hear the strain in my voice.

"Can we just start over?"

You had always been offensive, and this was your way of reminding me. You knew what I'd say. You knew how disgustingly tethered I was to you.

You took my hand, as the plane lifted from the ground. I laughed. I wanted to be rid of you, but it was too late. You breathed down my neck, and I shut down, ready to begin again.


End file.
